by: Marty Chrisman

Luke was sitting in the corner with Billy Jo sitting beside him. Luke hadn’t spoken since the last round of torture by the guards and Billy Jo was starting to get worried. Billy noticed the various wounds on Luke’s body, bruises and cuts, lacerations and abrasions. There was also a wicked looking eight inch gash on his left leg that looked like it was badly infected. When their food bowls came, Billy tried to hand Luke his bowl but he brushed it aside. “Come on, Sarge….ya gotta eat.” Billy said coaxing Luke to at least try.

Luke could hear Billy Jo, he just refused to respond. He was convinced that he was going to die here in this place and that there was nothing he could do about that. He knew that his battered body couldn’t take much more abuse and that the next round of torture could be all it took to kill him. Luke didn’t think that it would matter much if he ate or not under the circumstances. He didn’t want to die but it wasn’t up to him, it was up to God and if God chose to let him die here in this place then there had to a reason. He closed his eyes and let himself go home again.

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by: Marty Chrisman

A whimper slipped from Luke’s throat when he realized that the guards had come for him again. Rough hands reached out to grab him pulling him to his feet. Two guards grabbed his arms and drug him into the building. He was taken to a small room with a metal table sitting in the middle. The guards forced Luke to lie down on the table and then they strapped down his wrists and his ankles, with another strap around his waist, securing him to the table so that he couldn’t move. Luke lay there, staring at the ceiling, as he passively waited for whatever torture they had in mind for him this time. Like the other prisoners he was slowly becoming conditioned to accept whatever fate they had in store for him.

“You are nothing…” one of the guards hissed at Luke “You live because we let you live, you will die if we choose to kill you…we control your fate.”

Luke didn’t bother to respond. He knew that answering would only make them hurt him. The guards constantly told the prisoners the same thing. They were nothing, they lived only because the guards let them live. They could kill them at any time and not give it a second thought. To the guards they were less than human, animals and no longer men.

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by: Marty Chrisman

Days blended one into another until Luke lost of track of time. He could no longer remember how long he had been in the camp. Lack of food, poor hygiene, poor sanitation, a lack of adequate sleep, and continuing physical torture (usually in the form of the electric shocks) were starting to take their toll on Luke’s spirit and his mind. The only thing that kept him sane when things got too bad was his memories of home. He often found himself wondering if anyone at home even knew that he was still alive or if they thought that he’d been killed.

Pete, the only other prisoner he had gotten to know, had finally died of his injuries so now Luke was alone without anyone to talk to. The other prisoners kept to themselves, avoiding each other as much as possible. When the guards came for him again, Luke didn’t resist. He knew that it was no use. Resisting would only get him beaten to death. He’d already seen it happen to other prisoners who tried to resist and failed.

Luke stumbled down the long corridor that was so painfully familiar by now and into the room where they would find more ways to hurt him and try to make him say what they wanted to hear. But there was still a part of Luke that resisted bending to their will and giving up his own identity. He was born a Duke and he would die a Duke and he would not allow them to take that away from him.

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by: Marty Chrisman

Luke finished the slop in his bowl without gagging. Pete was right, it didn’t take long to get used to the foul taste. When you’re close to starving, you’ll eat just about anything. Luke had been in the camp for two days and he’d already seen four men in the cage with him die. The conditions were deplorable. There was no place to sleep except on the cold, hard ground and nothing to cover up with to ward off the chill of the night air. A corner of the cage had been designated as a waste area and that was where the prisoners were forced to relieve themselves. It was one of the areas the guards frequently sprayed down, sending rivers off liquid waste among the prisoners. Luke quickly learned to get out of the way as best he could to avoid getting any more of it on him than he had to.

The days were long and sweltering hot. So hot it was hard to breathe sometimes. And the insects were a torment all by themselves. Luke’s body was soon covered with bites and stings. And at night, other animals, like rats and snakes, would slip into the cages. More than once Luke had watched in horror as a rat tried to make a meal out of another prisoner’s leg or arm, especially if he had an open wound.

Three days after Luke arrived at the camp, a guard opened the cage door. Flanked by four other guards with guns, he came inside and grabbed Luke by the arm, jerking him to his feet. He pulled Luke outside of the cage and shut the door, locking it securely. While the other guards kept their guns aimed at Luke, the first guard securely tied his hands behind his back with a thick piece of rope and then slipped another piece of rope around Luke’s neck. Laughing, he stated walking towards a one story block building pulling Luke along behind him like a dog by jerking on the rope around his neck.

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by: Marty Chrisman

The men had been marching through the jungle for 2 days. Six marines all that were left alive from their squad. Caught in a surprise ambush by the Viet Cong, the marines who had survived the attack had been taken prisoner. Their capturers had tied them together in one long line, forcing them to march down a long secluded trail to the prison camp hidden deep in the jungle. None of the surviving men tried to escape. A couple of others had tried earlier and had been shot and killed, their bodies dumped along the trail.

Sergeant Luke Duke forced himself to keep walking even though he was exhausted. He was also terrified. He knew that as a prisoner of war he had no rights, not to the Viet Cong, and that they were notorious for their torture and mistreatment of their prisoners. Luke had been in numerous battles, had men die in his arms, seen things no man should ever have to see, but being captured by the enemy frightened him more than anything else ever had. He knew it was unlikely that he would survive the ordeal that lay ahead of him. When the time came, he silently prayed for the courage to die like a man with honor and with pride.

The worst part of all was that he had been scheduled to go home in two days, his tour of Nam would have been over and he would have been safe back in the States. Now instead, he would probably die in this god forsaken place thousands of miles away from his home and his family. The physical torment had already began none of the prisoners had been given anything to eat or drink for the past two days and they’d had very little rest. But they had to keep moving. They had no choice.

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